


Days in the Life...

by Will_Write_4_Coffee



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Other characters will probably show up, Smut, but those are the 3 I've written in so far, kastle - Freeform, some domestic adorableness, there are puppies too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Will_Write_4_Coffee/pseuds/Will_Write_4_Coffee
Summary: A collection of Kastle ficlets from prompts and suggestions sent in. From fluff to filth, it's got it all!





	1. Chapter 1

_**Prompt 79: “Stop hogging all the blankets!”** _

_***** _

****Karen squinted in the dark, head rolling on her pillow. She’d gone to bed perfectly warm, but now…

“Oh, come on,” she muttered, tugging at the corner of the sheet barely still covering her hip.

Every night. Every. Single. Night.

Flopping over onto her back, she continued to pull at the cotton, hoping it would give. Maybe if she kept the tension even and slowly pulled, she could unravel the human burrito she was currently sharing a bed with…

Nope.

“Like a fucking log,” she grunted, still yanking.

2 AM was not the most polite time of day for Karen. She was better at 10 in the morning, or maybe even 1 in the afternoon, right after lunch. Everyone was nicer after lunch. But in the dark autumn cold, she was less than pleasant. Or diplomatic.

“Goddamn it.” She yanked again, only to succeed in making the large lump of blankets twitch.

In a moment of sleep-deprived mania, Karen lost her mind.

“Hey!” She yelled, slapping the heap next to her. “You!” She slapped it again, but the layers muffled the sound and buffered the impact. “Wake up!”

The human burrito rumbled.

“I said wake up!”

It wiggled that time. Maybe even ‘harrumphed’, but she couldn’t tell if it was him or the mattress moving.

Still caught up in her frenzy, Karen sat up and started clawing at the blankets, trying to find the entrance. He had to breathe, so there had to be a gap somewhere…

“What the…” Frank’s graveled voice was rough from sleep. “Kare—”

“Stop hogging all the blankets!” She yelled, pulling at the comforter until she saw the top of his head. “Every night we go to bed with the blankets over BOTH of us, and every night I wake up FREEZING because you’ve turned yourself into a human fucking burrito with six layers of bedding!” She could see his forehead, even in the dim light, as she fought to unravel him. “I thought I could handle your freakish nesting tendencies, and most of the time I can, but goddamn it, when you won’t even leave me more than a corner of a cotton sheet, I’m—”

“Karen, ow—Hey…” Wriggling around, Frank’s head popped out of the blankets, hair mussed. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop hogging all the blankets!” She repeated, scowling at him in the dark. “I’m cold, Frank. I wake up cold every night, because you—” In leu of words she flailed her arm out, gesturing to the way he’d practically mummified himself in pastel flower print quilts.

He paused, squinting at her. Then his laugh rumbled deep in his chest and Karen had never been more conflicted in her life—to smile or to punch him? Could she do both?

“You jerk.”

Frank was still chuckling as he said, “Sorry. I’m sorry. Here…”

There was more movement from the heap of bedding and Frank’s head disappeared.

“If you’re going back to sleep, I swear to god…”

“Hold on.”

The bed bounced a little as he adjusted and then the blankets were tossed back. Frank propped himself on his left elbow and waved her closer.

“What are you doing?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

Scratching the corner of his eye, Frank grunted. “Said you were cold, right? Well, c’mon.”

Karen was dubious. “Are you… adding me to your blanket burrito?”

“Never meant to leave you out of it, to be honest,” he murmured. “Come on, it’s chilly.”

Scooting over, Karen slipped into the tunnel of blankets and sheets Frank had somehow crafted in his sleep. The residual body heat alone was enough to make her hum in satisfaction.

After a little maneuvering, Karen was on her side, pressing her back against his chest as Frank rewrapped them.

“You and your nesting…” she muttered, fluffing the pillow under her head.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Better?” He asked, kissing the back of her neck when he was done.

“Much.” She nodded, easing back as he draped an arm over her waist. “No funny stuff, Castle. I’m still annoyed with you and I’ve got work in the morning.”

“It is morning.”

“Not the point.”

She felt more than heard his chuckle and after a few moments she was drifting back to sleep, warmer than she’d been in months.

Frank was still a furnace however, and Karen woke up to her alarm with locks of hair stuck to her neck with sweat.

Still… It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time. And Frank officially apologized with coffee in bed.

Not the worst start to a Tuesday, she reckoned.


	2. Chapter 2

_****Prompt “Where did all these puppies come from?”** ** _

_******* ** _

********Frank was used to being greeted by some kind of noise—The clatter and clink of dishes being washed, a faint call of ‘hey’ from the bedroom, the chatter of the TV… All of those were normal.

So when he opened the apartment door only to be greeted by nearly deafening yips and barks, he froze in place.

“Whoa, hey, wait, no, come back here—Hey!”

Karen toppled over herself from her position on the floor, almost somersaulting in an attempt to wrangle the furry creatures running around. At first glance, Frank counted three, but they were running and jumping so fast he could’ve been wrong.

“Hey, you’re home!” Karen called, propped up on her elbows on the living room rug.

Frank looked from the fur balls to her and then back again. “What are all these puppies doing here?”

“Well, funny story…” She shoved herself up, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “The paper was covering an adoption fair, and I told the girl how much I wanted a puppy when I was little, and how great you are with dogs and… Uh… Well…” She waved a hand out. “Ta da?”

Closing the door, Frank dropped into a crouch, offering his hand to the nearest puppy—some kind of Corgi mix– to sniff. Each one ran right for him, tiny paws scraping his knees and shins as they clamored to get closer. One leapt for his face, tongue lolling out, and Frank chuckled as he ducked away.

“Easy, fella, you’re alright,” he murmured, rubbing the brown lab mix’s ears. “Like that, huh?”

Karen shifted onto her knees, watching him getting playfully tackled by each puppy. “They don’t have names yet… They were too new at the shelter.”

“You adopted three puppies out of the blue?”

“No, I just told the girl we’d foster them for a week to help socialize them. But… if we fall in love with one in particular…” She grinned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

The third—a black brindled pit mix with a scarred up back leg—was at Frank’s side immediately, sitting back and staring like he was waiting for instruction.

Frank’s smile was soft, tender in a way Karen rarely got to witness.

“So… What’re we gonna name you guys, huh? Can’t call you Dogs One, Two, and Three.”

“I thought we’d see what their personalities were like. Right now they’re just riled up little monsters.” She said the last word with a playful growl, snatching up the Corgi and rubbing his belly.

Standing, Frank smacked his leg as he started for the kitchen. “C’mon boys, who’s hungry?”

*

Karen woke up at 3am to several high-pitched whines coming from the gated off corner of the bedroom. She’d picked up baby gates at the store to make a puppy-proof zone in leu of 3 separate crates, and lined it with pads and tossed in a few toys. Frank had added a couple towels and a small clock, saying the ticking helped calm them down as it reminded them of their mom’s heartbeat.

The whining continued and Karen rolled over.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” she whispered, arm flopping on the bed as she tried to wave at them.

The puppies just yipped louder.

“Shhh.”

“It’s alright, I got ‘em,” Frank’s voice rumbled close to her. Pulling back the covers, he got up and quietly shuffled over. “Hey, what’s the ruckus, huh? Gotta go out?”

Karen tried to watch in the dark, but her eyelids were too heavy. She must’ve dozed off because she jerked awake when she heard the door to the apartment close. Frank’s silhouette moved around, nearly silent except for the three puppies trotting next to him as he lead them back to their pen.

Stripping back down to his boxers, he slid into bed, curling himself against her.

“They okay?” She asked, voice rough from sleep.

“Hm.” He buried his nose into the hair at the back of her head, breathing in deep. “Just small bladders needing a little relief.”

“Oh… good.”

The next time she woke up was to her 6:45 alarm and the smell of coffee. She was about to sit up when the bed shook with a stampede of puppies.

“Oh! Oh my goodness!” She cooed, rolling to catch each one and kiss their furry heads. “Good morning, hello, hi, good morning to you too.”

“Couldn’t wait any longer,” Frank’s voice said from somewhere in the room, but she couldn’t see through the paws and tails and fur. “Begged like crazy to get out of the kitchen.”

“This is the best way to wake up,” she announced happily, holding the brindle pit up high and making kissing noises at him.

*

After 2 days they’d named two of the three pups. The lab mix was clearly a Charlie, and the corgi Frank had jokingly called Shorty but it stuck. The only one they hadn’t figured out yet was the brindle pit. He was already showing his loyal streak, always staying at Frank’s side when he was up doing things around the apartment. Even stayed right with him while Frank fixed a leaky pipe under the sink. Karen had tried out a few names—Buddy, Bear, even Slugger—but none of them fit.

“He’ll let us know what to name him,” Frank had said, petting the dog as he slept with his head in his lap.

On the third day Karen took the puppies with her on her jog—which was more speed walking thanks to Shorty and his namesake legs. Cutting through the park, she slowed to let them sniff the bushes and relieve themselves. Charlie and Shorty were busy smelling every inch of a nearby trash can while the pit stood at Karen’s side, watching as people strolled by.

She’d only been looking at her phone for a moment when she heard heavy footsteps rushing her.

“Hey, gimme your—”

Snarling like she’d never heard before erupted from the brindle pup. The hair at the back of his neck up on end, teeth bared, small jaws snapping at the would-be mugger. The noise was enough to spook him and draw the attention of a few others and the guy yanked his hood up and ran off before anyone could get a good look at his face.

The puppy kept barking until the guy was out of sight and the other 2 were tangling themselves in their leashes.

Karen bought them all a pupachino on the way home and took a ridiculous number of photos, beaming like a proud mama as she did.

That night she told Frank what happened by starting with, “I think I know what we should name him.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded, glancing down at the black tail whipping back and forth happily.

“Valor,” she said. “I think we should name him Valor.”

After Frank heard the full story, he turned and immediately started rummaging in the freezer.

“What are you doing?”

Straightening, holding a package of meat, he said, “This dog’s getting steak tonight. A hero’s dinner.”

*

Charlie was the first to find a forever home, with a sweet couple from the Lower East Side. They picked him up and put a red plaid collar around his neck and it looked like it had always belonged there.

Shorty was next, finding a home with a grandma and her granddaughter she was raising. Their apartment in Brooklyn was just the right size for a gentleman of his stature.

But Valor…

Valor had already found his home. Snuggled right between Frank and Karen on the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

_****Prompt “Don’t make me come over there myself!”  (with a guest appearance by David Lieberman)** ** _

_******* ** _

********Karen could admit it was at least a little funny to watch.

But mostly it was loud.

To his credit, Frank had warned her they tended to do this. She just thought he meant when it came to a lead on a criminal, or when they had to figure out how to get other people involved, like Midani.

Not food.

“I’m telling you, the best sausage and pepper roll comes from Gino’s!” Micro—David, she needed to get used to calling him David—yelled, tossing a to-go menu down.

Frank sneered. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Don’t be a jerk—”

“Santorelli’s on Coney Island does the best hoagies, and the best sausage and pepper—”

David waved his arms out. “We can’t go all the way to Coney Island for a sandwich, Frank!”

“You didn’t say in close proximity, you said best. And I’m tellin’ you, Santorelli’s is the best.”

“Well if those are the rules, then Dean’s in Philly—”

“Oh come on!”

“What?”

“You can’t name a place in a different city!”

“You just said we weren’t talking about proximity!”

“It was implied we were talking about _this_  city.”

David shook his head, curly hair bouncing as he did so. “Oh, now we’re going with implied rules of engagement. If you were in any of my Call of Duty groups, we’d be fucked.”

Karen sipped her stale coffee and frowned as her stomach growled even louder. They’d been trying to pick a place to eat for thirty minutes.

The bickering continued, getting louder and more animated. She laughed a few times, but mostly to herself so as not to reward bad behavior.

Frank made a disparaging comment about David’s favorite pizza place and suddenly David was out of his chair, hoisting an old keyboard in the air like he was gonna whack Frank in the back of the head.

“Alright enough!” Karen jumped up, nearly spilling her coffee. “You two are worse than children. David, put that down,” she hissed, and he slowly dropped the keyboard back on the desk. “Now can you both take a breather and decide, sometime in this calendar year, where to eat?”

David crossed his arms. “Gino’s.”

Frank opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he glanced over at Karen. She must’ve had that hangry look in her eye, because he relented immediately.

“Fine. Gino’s.” He clenched his jaw, eyeing David like a traitor. “I’m gonna wash up first.”

“Yeah, I gotta pee,” David said, starting for the bathroom.

The two men got to the door at the same time, colliding shoulder to shoulder. David shoved Frank, and Frank retaliated with a wide palm to David’s face, pushing him back. Karen had to bite her lip not to burst into fits of giggles.

“Don’t make me come over there myself!” She shouted, and the slappy fight died down.

“Just go,” Frank snapped.

“Rude, inconsiderate…”

“You hit like a two year old.”

“Yeah, you smell like one.”

“Take that back.”

Karen sat back down, crossing her legs.

Children. They were overgrown children.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. You've been warned ;)

_****Prompt 170  “Bend over. ”** ** _

_***** _

****It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t intentionally gawking.

She just had to wear those damn leggings…

“Frank?”

He blinked, realizing she’d been talking to him. “Huh?”

Karen smiled. “I asked if you wanted pizza for dinner.”

No. He wanted her. His mouth was already watering.

“Sure,” he said, going back to his part of their project.

Karen had brought home a couple new shelves, announcing that while they might not live together, she was noticing a considerable amount of his books were smuggling their way into her apartment. And according to her, books needed a proper place, not just stacked up on the floor.

So that’s how they’d found themselves surrounded by IKEA furniture pieces and packets of screws, sitting on her living room floor.

He’d been fine. Perfectly content listening to Karen talk about work while he pieced the bookcase frame together. She’d started in on the other, and at some point she’d crawled over to borrow a screwdriver and suddenly his brain was fogged.

Those damn leggings. It was like she was wearing barely anything they were so thin. And they clung to every inch of her…

 _Get it together, Castle,_ he thought, grinding his teeth.

He could control himself. He wasn’t an animal. And he had the focus of a laser pointer, he could--

“Oh, damn, I forgot that,” Karen muttered, pushing to her hands and knees to crawl back to the tool box.

“I’ll get it.” He said it way too quickly, too sharply. It made her head jerk up.

“You don’t even know what I forgot.”

“Tell me and I’ll get it.”

He tried for casual, helpful. Instead he sounded strained, even to himself.

Karen eyed him, confusion drawing her brows together.

“That’s okay,” she started, already moving towards his side of the living room. “You’ve got your hands full.”

_Not as full as they could be…_

Jesus, he felt like a deviant.

Grunting, he went back to the shelf he was almost done with, staring at it so hard he was surprised it didn’t start smoking.

She was only a few inches away, rifling through the toolbox. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, he caught a whiff of her—her shampoo and light floral perfume—and he froze like a wolf on a hunt catching the scent of its prey for the first time.

Keeping his head down, his gaze drifted to her, watching.

The hem of her oversized sweater lifting over the curve of her ass.

The arch of her neck.

The clench of her thigh muscle as she shifted.

Frank’s pulse thundered in his ears. His arms trembled, fighting to stay locked where he was and not reach out for her in lightning speed.

“I’ll order once you’re done.”

It took him a full three seconds to register what she was talking about.

Pizza. Dinner. Food.

Right.

“Okay.” His voice was a dark tumble of gravel that even Karen registered as unusual even from just the one word.

“Unless… You wanted something else?” She leaned back on her knees to look at him.

Now was his chance. Put the tools down, toss aside the Swedish made abomination he was holding, and just tell her. Beg her. Pounce on her like a cat.

Frank swallowed. “Pizza’s fine.”

Karen hummed and stood up, mumbling something about getting a beer, and turned.

He watched her walk to the kitchen like it would kill him to look away.

His palms itched to hold, to grab, to massage. To feel her shake and squirm, to make her delusional with pleasure.

Dragging his hand over his face, Frank took a deep breath.

He wasn’t used to… this. Getting so caught off guard, so consumed by want. It made him feel… unsteady. It flirted against the sharp edges of bloodlust he’d long put to rest. He wasn’t dangerous like this, of course not, but… He certainly didn’t feel sane. Or in control.

Vaguely he heard the fridge door close and he struggled to pretend he wasn’t imagining the eight different ways he wanted to fuck Karen until they were both barely conscious.

“Too bad you’re a ‘have a beer after a job well done’ kinda guy, or I wouldn’t have to drink alone,” Karen called from the kitchen.

He didn’t remember setting the shelves aside. Didn’t remember standing up or crossing over to the small kitchen. Didn’t really remember what he said, if he said anything at all in prelude.

His mouth went straight for her neck, kissing and biting and sucking. He’d starved himself long enough.

“Frank!” Karen jolted at the initial contact but melted almost instantly. Her arms didn’t quite wrap around him, too stunned to do much of anything but let him hold her.

“Put it down,” he grunted into the crook of her neck, gripping her waist and hauling her as close as possible. “Down, Karen.”

Blindly she reached back to set the beer on the counter.

His hands snaked under her sweater until he found skin. Warm, soft… He wanted his mouth on every inch of her.

“Frank, what are you--?”

Calloused palms skimmed over her breasts, teasing her through the thin fabric of her bra. It cut her question off, turning it into a moan.

“I tried,” he murmured against her. “I tried, I swear. But shit, you look so fucking good, I can’t…”

He yanked her sweater off for her, tossing it somewhere on the kitchen floor. In one motion he lifted her and carried her back to the living room, leaving a trail of love bites across her collar bones as he did so.

Karen was speechless, only gasping and whimpering in response.

He lowered her to her feet once they were by the couch and before she could get her bearings, he was turning her. Ducking his head, he kissed and bit at her neck, her shoulders, her back, pushing her hair out of his way and keeping his fist buried in the soft blonde locks.

Licking over her pulse point, he nipped the hinge of her jaw and Karen gasped.

“Oh, Frank…”

A small, distant voice in his head told him he should slow down, take a breath, get a handle on himself.

But then Karen arched her back and pressed her ass—that ass that had been tempting him for hours—against him and that voice was silenced by the need in his chest.

Sinking his teeth into the meat of her shoulder, just enough to make her moan, Frank angled her to the arm of the couch.

“Bend over.” His voice was barely human as he growled it. He would have felt guilty if she hadn’t shivered so intensely it sent goosepimples up his own arms.

Karen did as he told her, bending at the waist and propping herself up on her elbows on the arm of the sofa.

From how she positioned herself, how she locked her knees immediately, he knew she was expecting him to get right to it with little finesse.

Frank was happy he could still surprise her.

Taking half a step back, he stroked her hip, toying with the waistband of her leggings. His thumb dug into her flesh, eliciting a soft noise from her. She rocked back on her heels, an urgent move silently begging him to do more. Frank grinned wolfishly.

With both hands, he dragged her leggings down, peeling them off slowly. When they rolled to just below the meat of her ass, he knelt behind her, pulling them down her thighs. He left them at her ankles, keeping her restrained just enough.

The tiny strips of her thong were the only thing keeping her core covered, but the rest of her…

“Shit, now that’s a sight,” he said, hands running up the backs of her thighs to her ass cheeks, gripping them firmly.

He squeezed until she whimpered and then massaged the ache away, kissing up her legs reverently. He wasn’t done though, not by a long shot. Blunt nails dug into her, leaving faint little red crescents all over pale skin. He kissed the left side of her ass and bit gently, savoring her gasps and moans like he’d never heard anything better.

Dragging his teeth over her, he reached up to the band of her thong and snapped it, making her jerk.

“Mhm, Frank…” Her voice was thick and needy.

He was gonna make her sound wrecked before he was through.

Sinking his teeth into the right side of her ass, he gripped the left, knowing he’d leave tiny fingertip sized blotches for her to find the next morning. He’d never wanted to mark her up before, but now… Shit, all he could think about was waking up and seeing evidence of everywhere he’d been mapped all over her body. He strained against his fly just at the thought.

It was a near relief to both of them when he finally stripped her thong off, pulling it down to her ankles like he’d done with her leggings. His left hand pressed lightly at the curve of her lower back, silently telling her to stay where she was.

For a moment, all Frank could do was stare. She was perfect as always, blush creeping up her inner thighs, her core pink and glistening. His mouth watered at the first inhale of her, and that predatory hunger he’d tried so hard to wrangle rushed to the surface.

With a generous handful of her ass in each hand, he spread her apart and leaned in.

Karen’s gasp was sharp at the first swipe of his tongue over her and he dug his fingertips in deeper. He kissed up and down her core, tasting with a patience that was contrary to the roar in his chest to claim, to feast, to mark. The blood in his veins burned like lighter fluid but he licked her gently, easing her open more with each pass of his tongue.

“More, Frank, more,” she moaned, trying to push back against him.

He nipped the top of her thigh, just below the crease of her ass. “Easy, I’ll take care of you.”

To prove his point, he darted his tongue inside, swirling until she was trembling in his hands.

Briefly he thought about migrating north with his attentions, but realized that hadn’t been a discussion they’d had, so he held back. He’d save that for another day.

Instead he double-downed, eating at her like he was starved.

The tip of his tongue nudged her clit and Karen jerked like she’d been electrocuted. He did it again and grinned against her as she cursed and tilted her hips, presenting herself to him for more.

Faintly, he registered the noises he heard weren’t just her. He was growling like a wild animal, grunting and panting against drenched flesh. Burying his nose in deep as he tongued her, he was surrounded in nothing but her, drowning in her, and he still wanted more.

Karen was too quiet for his liking-- the beast that had taken up residence in his skin needing more of her frantic moans and yelps.

At the same time he slipped his tongue inside her, Frank slapped the right side of her ass, and Karen’s shocked cry was music to his ears. He did it again, and her moan was deep, vibrating through her until he felt it. Rubbing the sting away, he made sure to space each smack out and to keep the force to a minimum. He wanted her exciting and begging, not raw.

He timed another slap of his palm to match when he sucked her clit between his lips, and Karen’s knees almost buckled as she cried out.

“Jesus Christ,” she moaned, back arching.

Kneading the meat of her ass, he groaned, and the vibrations nearly sent her over the edge.

“Ah…Again, Frank,” she pleaded. “Slap my ass again.”

There were no words to describe the rush of pride that comingled with intense lust inside him, but Frank was pretty sure he’d be grinning for days. He knew his lady’s kinks almost as well as his own, even before they’d been explored.

All too happily, he obliged, the sound of skin smacking skin ringing in his ears.

Karen screamed, and he did it again, twice, three times, a fourth, until she was panting his name.

“You’re gonna come,” he growled, kissing the newest red streak appearing on her skin. “I’m gonna taste you when you do. Or you just might not get what I know you really want.”

Karen’s kitten whimper nearly ignited that lighter fluid in his blood, but he managed to hold strong.

She’d never been exactly shy about letting him know how much she enjoyed a specific body part of his… And he wondered if she was regretting tipping her hand now.

He didn’t wait for her to say anything else before he was ducking back down and ravishing her with his tongue, his lips, even the softest graze of his teeth. She started to shake against him, her wetness dripping down his chin, and he kept going.

Her high-pitched scream cracked in half, voice dropping out as she shattered apart.

“That’s it… That’s it, fuck,” he grunted, licking at her through each wave.

She tried to close her legs a fraction but his shoulder wedged her open still. That same wild need, that beast clawing at his ribs, sneered at the idea of showing mercy, so hungry for her he almost couldn’t drag himself away.

 _More, more, more…_ Pounding in his head like a heartbeat.

“Frank, Frank, please,” her pleas broke through the fog of lust. “I need you in me, please, god…”

Pulling back, he inhaled, trying to steady himself. Gently running his hands up and down her thighs, he placed a few kisses over her ass, not quite an apology but a reminder he was still with her, still listening.

He stood, hands on her hips to keep her in the same position. He wasn’t done watching that gorgeous pink ass bounce.

Keeping one hand on her, he used the other to unzip and free himself, groaning at the first contact. He was more keyed up than he’d realized. They’d have to go slow at first, or the finale was going to be a bit of a disappointment.

His left hand skipped up her back, sinking into her hair. Tugging just enough to make her moan, he held her there while he stroked her core with the head of his cock.

“Goddamn it, Frank, fuck me or I swear—”

He chuckled darkly. “Bent over the couch and you’re still bossin’ me around.”

She rocked back on her heels again and he hissed at the sensation.

“I’m not the only one _in need_ here.” She did it again and Frank involuntarily yanked her hair. It only wound her up more though, ripping a moan from her throat.

“Shit,” he grunted. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

Lining up, he had to pace himself as he entered her, her slick heat overwhelming him. By the time he bottomed out, sweat was beaded at his temples and his whole torso was flushed beneath his shirt.

Karen’s mumbled praise kept him anchored. “…S’good, fuck, feels amazing…”

Planting his feet, Frank pulled back, withdrawing almost entirely before snapping his hips forward. He had to keep his gaze locked on the back of her head until he knew he wouldn’t lose it, and then he let himself watch.

“Fuck, look at you take it,” he growled, fingers tangling in her hair again. “Perfect, Kare.”

She practically melted at his words, back arching and joints loosening up as he moved inside her.

“Please Frank, harder…” She reached out in front of her, nails scraping on the couch cushions. It dropped her torso lower and angled her just right, so that his next thrust stole her breath.

He held her with his right hand, digging his fingers into her hip, her thigh, keeping her where he wanted her. Picking up the pace was a torturous experiment in self-control, but hearing her groans and shrieks was worth every ounce of willpower.

Raking his nails over the curve of her ass, he slammed into her and Karen cried out.

The string of curses that fell passed her lips would have made a sailor blush—Hell, Frank was having a hard time reconciling the filth she was saying with the woman saying it.

But then again, his Karen was always more than what met the eye.

“Sweetheart, you keep that up and I’m gonna fall short of your expectations here,” he grunted, blinking away the stars at the edges of his vision.

Her giggle was faint, like it was trailing right after a pant. “Don’t tell me I’m embarrassing you, Marine.”

“More like makin’ me forget my own name.” He tugged her hair until she moaned. “And that’s my job.”

He could tell she getting close, and the more noise she made, the less control he had.

It was brutal sounding—deep, visceral grunting, the slap of skin against skin, his occasional smacks to her ass. But over all that was Karen’s desperate pleading.

_Harder._

_Fuck me harder._

_Make me feel it._

_Fuck me._

Each time she spoke it etched into his bones, simultaneously soothing and waking up the primal creature dictating his movements.

He felt the first flutter around him and Frank growled.

“Scream for me,” he told her. “I wanna hear you.”

Karen did.

Her whole body tensed as a guttural scream tore from her, shaking her down to her ankles.

He kept going, fucking her through it until he was too far gone to hold out hope of making her come again. Three more powerful thrusts and he was spilling inside her, dropping his head between her shoulder blades as he moved. Despite all his previous animalistic noises, he was breathless as he climaxed, eyes pinching shut and mouth falling open.

“Christ,” he panted, still bent over top of her.

They stayed like that, sweaty and gasping, for what felt like ages until he started to slide from inside her. Karen whimpered at the loss as he withdrew, but didn’t rush to stand up. She had molded to the sofa, boneless and satisfied.

Tucking himself back into his jeans, Frank eyed the red and pink splotches all over her ass, and for the first time all night felt a twinge of something akin to guilt.

“Hey…” He murmured, rubbing her back. “You, uh… You okay?”

Karen lifted onto her elbows, pushing her hair from her face. “Are you kidding?”

Frank waited, blatantly ignoring the spike in his blood pressure.

“That was… Frank, holy shit.” Her laugh was breathless but full of enjoyment. “Where have you been hiding those moves, huh?”

He chuckled, more than a little relieved. He’d been almost certain she was fine with the direction things had taken, but almost wasn’t 100%.

“Yeah, well you have yourself to thank for this,” he said.

Straightening a little more to glance over her shoulder, Karen asked, “What do you mean?”

He grinned. “I’m afraid to tell you, you’ll just exploit it.”

Pausing, she smirked after a moment. “It was the leggings wasn’t it?”

Frank blinked. “You—”

“Knew? Oh Frank,” she said, standing. “There are a few things I’m hyper aware of in this world. And your ‘god, I wanna fuck you’ stare is at the top of that list.”

Frank bent to kiss her for the first time all evening. “Minx.”

“Yup, and you like it.”

Just because, he smacked her ass, much softer than he had earlier but it still made her jerk.

“So,” he said, kissing her again. “You said something about pizza.”

 


	5. Chapter Five

**_140, “ I swear my house is haunted. ”_ **

*****

“Frank? Frank, I need you to come over.”

Pinning the phone between his shoulder and ear, Frank tossed another pack of jerky into his basket. “Karen? Why are you whispering?”

“Because I’m hiding in my bathroom.”

Frank’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest. “Who’s there? Did someone—”

“Frank, please, just hurry.”

He dropped his basket in the aisle and bolted out of the bodega.

Karen’s apartment wasn’t far, and at a dead run he made it to her door in minutes.

Testing the knob, Frank scowled. It was locked. He knew Karen kept a spare key hidden beneath the loose baseboard, and after retrieving it, he opened the door silently.

The living room was quiet and empty, and it made his skin prick. Food—her dinner, he assumed—was left on the coffee table. Her laptop on the sofa. The lamp was off, as was the tv, and that didn’t make much sense given how Karen liked to work with background noise (the news, a rerun of Law and Order, something formulaic and not at all distracting). Her coffee was still warm.

A cabinet door was open in her kitchen, which was a little unlike her. She was pretty good about closing anything she opened. Habit of living with a tidy mother and being the older sibling.

“Karen?” He called softly.

“Frank?” Her voice was muffled, coming from the master bath.

“You hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. Can… Can you check the rest of the apartment?”

He stopped, swiveling his head around. “Check for what?”

“For… Anything? Anything weird?”

He squinted into the dim light of her bedroom. “Weird,” he echoed, still looking. “Karen, did someone—”

“Not someone, some _thing._ ”

Frank halted, eyeing the bathroom door. Karen was not easily spooked. She also wasn’t pre-dispositioned for excitable ideas, hardly ever letting her mind run away with her.

That was more David’s territory.

Trying to understand, Frank repeated, “Something?”

“Do you see anything? Anything strange?”

He triple checked. “No, there’s nothing out here.” Stepping closer to the door, he said, “Why don’t y’come out here, huh?”

After a few seconds he heard her moving in the bathroom and the door opened, light cutting through the dark of her bedroom.

Tilting his head, he smiled gently. “Y’okay?”

He had to admit, she looked rattled. Big blue eyes even wider, cheeks devoid of color. Her gaze darted over his shoulder before she looked up at him.

“I… I swear… something was here.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her into the living room, turning on lights as he went.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” he said, helping her to the sofa.

Pushing her hair back from her forehead, Karen leaned her elbows on her knees. “I was sitting right here, working on a story, and then…” She glanced over at the side table. “The lamp went out. Which didn’t really startle me, I thought it was just the bulb blowing. And just went I put my laptop down to go get a new bulb, the tv cut off. I wasn’t near the remote, Frank, I swear.”

“I believe you.”

“It was dark, and then it got cold—really cold, all of a sudden—and I heard the cabinet door open and—” She took a shaky breath, holding it for a moment. “I didn’t think. I just grabbed my phone and locked myself in the bathroom.”

Patting her knee once, Frank stood up and inspected the kitchen with her watching. He opened all the cabinet doors. Closed them. Opened the oven, the fridge. Closed those too. He checked the lights—they all worked. He went to the windows, testing the locks, making sure they were all closed and tightly sealed. No drafts.

“I swear my house is haunted,” Karen muttered, hands covering her face. “Or I’ve finally cracked.”

“I highly doubt that,” Frank said, stooping to look under the bed. Nothing there either.

He came back and found the tv remote, turning it back on. The final moments of the Law and Order episode flickered on the screen. Then he turned the lamp back on. The bulb glowed as brightly as ever.

“Frank, I’m telling you, that stuff turned off on its own.”

“I believe you, Karen,” he said again, tone even. He really did. He couldn’t explain what happened, but he believed Karen experienced it.

Sighing, Karen fidgeted with the sleeve of her blouse. “How am I supposed to sleep tonight? I’ve got a ghost that hates classic tv.”

Frank chuckled and sat back down next to her. “No accounting for taste.”

Karen looked up at him. “Will you… I mean… Can you stay? I really don’t want to be alone after…” She glanced into the kitchen as if expecting another cabinet door to fly open.

Frank nodded. “I’ll stay. Let’s see if Casper’s got something to say to me this time.”

For the first time all night, Karen smiled, laughing softly. Taking his hand, she gave his rough knuckles a squeeze before shifting to stand.

“You hungry? I have left overs.”

Frank grunted quietly. “Sure.”

They ate reheated Italian food and Frank watched tv while Karen tried to finish her piece. When she started to shuffle around uncomfortably, Frank tugged her feet into his lap so she could stretch. Neither of them said a word about it, or about how his thumb never stopped rubbing the arch or her right foot.

The apartment was quiet for the rest of the night. Karen’s possibly friendly ghost never made another appearance.

But surprisingly, it wasn’t the worst end to the day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! :) Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kastle with a special appearance by the one and only Foggy Nelson

_**124 “Take that back! ” + 144, “Stop being such a baby. ”** _

*****

Karen was _not_ drunk.

Just because she sloshed her drink on the table, and then on herself, and just because she had to pee a lot now, and _just because_ she was laughing really loudly did _not_ mean she was drunk.

Foggy was the drunk one. He could barely shoot pool, could barely stay upright while ordering their next round. Karen helped him though. She was good like that.

“Josie! Two more, uhh, whatevers that Karen’s got,” Foggy yelled, waving for Josie.

“No, no, no, we’re doing shots!” Karen shouted over him, practically levering herself off of Foggy’s shoulder to get Josie’s attention.

Foggy’s head whipped around too quickly and his eyes crossed for a moment. “Shots? Kare, nooooo, but you said—”

“I know what I said, ‘m fiiine Foggy bear!”

“Ugghh, not you too,” Foggy groaned, chin falling to his chest. “I can’t escape the name.”

“’S’cute!” Karen smacked her lips. “’M thirsty… Y’want water?”

“Don’t drink the water, Kare!” Foggy fumbled his hand against her arm, trying to grab her and missing. “It’s not good for you!”

“Neither is liver cirrhosis.”

The deep gravely voice cut through Karen’s alcohol haze. She knew that voice…

Foggy spun, staring up at him with comically wide eyes. “Whoa.”

“Fr—Pete!!” Karen slurred, luckily catching her mistake. “You’re here!” She staggered forward a little in her kitten heels. “Why are you here?”

Frank’s smirk was shadowed by his hood and ball cap. “Called me, remember?”

“I did?” She furrowed her brow. “Oh, I did. Yeah! Hey Foggy, Pete’s here!”

Foggy’s glassy stare bounced between Karen and Frank. “Karen. This is—”

“ _Peeeeetee_ ,” she slowed it down so he’d understand. “This is Pete _Castiglioneeee_.”

Frank pushed his hood back but kept his hat on. “You’re both hammered.”

Karen gasped. “Take that back!”

“’M perfectly fine, Mister Castiglinguine,” Foggy slurred, patting Frank’s shoulder. “But Karen is.”

“Shhhh, narc,” Karen hissed, grabbing Foggy’s elbow. Then she burst into a fit of giggles and Foggy laughed right along with her.

Josie arrived with four shots of something brown. Karen thought it was whiskey… Or Kahlua. It was hard to tell in the poorly lit bar.

Nodding to Frank, Josie planted a hand on her hip. “Anything for you, son?”

“A beer, please ma’am.”

“Sure. And don’t let them break anything.”

Frank grinned. “Will do.”

With numb fingers, Karen shoved a shot glass at Foggy. “Drink!”

“Oh god.” Foggy’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed whatever the hell had been poured for them. “Bottom’s up, Kare-bear!”

Karen nearly choked on her shot, caught off guard by the nickname. Beside her she heard Frank’s deep, thunder roll of a laugh. She always liked his laugh, it was a good sound. She wanted to hear it more.

Foggy gagged as he slammed his shot glass down on the bar. “Ack! What was that?”

“I dunno, but it was good!” Karen reached for the other two shots and only faintly noticed the hand at her low back, keeping her steady.

“Kare, I can’t,” Foggy shook his head, nearly throwing himself off balance. “I’m too young to die!”

“Stop being such a baby, Fog!” Karen held the glass out, almost dunking Foggy’s nose in it. “Drink!”

At that, Foggy tossed the liquor back and swallowed, grimacing like he’d drank lighter fluid. “Oh _God._ ”

Frank sipped from his bottled beer, quietly enjoying the raucous behavior. Every time Karen would glance at him he was smiling.

She was glad he was happy. She wanted him to be happy for a very long time.

He deserved it.

“I’m gonna hit the head,” Foggy announced, swaying on his feet.

“No puking!” Karen yelled after him.

“No promises!”

Giggling, she turned back and bumped into Frank’s chest.

“Whoops, s’rry,” she covered her mouth with her fingers.

With her heels on, she was just a hair taller than Frank, but she didn’t feel like it. He had a way of tricking you into thinking he was taller than he was, broader, bigger. The image of Frank was always tank-like, a man who dwarfed everyone and everything around him. The man himself was average and solidly built and not at all scary.

Well, not to Karen anyway.

“Got somethin’ on my face?” Frank asked, eyeing her.

“Huh?”

“Y’keep starin’ at me funny.”

Karen shook her head, blonde waves fluttering around her shoulders. “N-no, nope, you’re perfect.” She blinked. “I mean, you’re fine. You’re good.”

Frank took a sip and his lips curved into a grin she thought she recognized.

He was teasing her. Toying with her a little.

He was onto her.

“I’m back!” Foggy yelled, throwing the bathroom door open. “One more round??”

Karen, feeling suddenly a touch more sober, glanced at Frank. “One more.”

They shut Josie’s down, which Karen didn’t think was possible. After hailing a cab for Foggy, and tipping the driver extra, Frank shut the cab door as Karen waved goodbye to Foggy.

Stepping back onto the curb, Frank stopped a few inches from her. “Home?”

Karen darted forward, kissing his stubbled cheek quickly. “I’m glad you came.”

She almost thought the color rising on his cheekbones was from Josie’s neon red sign, but that had been turned off.

Frank was blushing.

“Me too.” He nodded and offered her his arm. “Alright, _Kare-bear_ , let’s get you home.”

Karen groaned, slipping her arm through his and letting him lead. “Oh, noooooo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed Foggy and couldn't help but write him in this one. Thank you for reading! And as always, comments are adored and appreciated <333


	7. Chapter Seven

_Prompt 61: “ You’d be a great mom. ”_

*

Frank knew something was off.

It was in the way Karen tossed her bag to the floor instead of setting it in her desk chair. The way she flung her shoes off at the door. How she scowled at the microwave as she reheated their leftover Thai food.

Shoulders up to her ears. Wrinkle in her forehead deepening by the minute. The waves of ‘I’m pissed’ rolling off her.

So Frank did his usual check and balances routine. Ran through the recent events in his mind, evaluated their interactions, subtly checked the calendar app on his phone…

Nope, not her birthday. He didn’t think he’d forget that, but you never know…

He kept his distance as she moved through the apartment. Pretended to read while she uncorked a new bottle of wine and went to the bedroom to change out of work clothes.

Their exchanges were short, cut to the bone.

“How was your day?”

“Fine.”

“I picked up extra light bulbs.”

“Thanks.”

“David and Sarah say hi.”

“Hi back.”

Maybe it was the story she was working on. Daycares being exposed for poor, unsanitary conditions and unfit caregivers being employed with no background checks. It was enough to make Frank itch, and she’d only barely told him about it.

She tried to keep her stories involving children out of their nightly conversations.

Frank didn’t deserve Karen’s implicit empathy, but he appreciated it all the same.

After she slammed a cabinet or drawer closed for the fourth time, Frank sighed through his nose and closed his book.

“Kare,” he called. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Liar.

Frank stood up from the couch, grunting a little as his sore knee caught. He watched her yank open the fridge door, digging around for soy sauce.

“So your condiments drawer offended you, then?”

Karen slowed, turning to face him. “I said I’m fine.”

“For a writer you sure do use that word incorrectly a lot.”

She glowered at him, but he felt her iron wrought defenses yielding. She never could hide from him for long.

“I just had a frustrating conversation with Ellison, is all.”

Karen poured a ginormous serving of wine and Frank tried not to react. Frustrating, indeed…

“Was it about your story?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned his hip into the edge of her counter.

For the first time all night, she faltered. “Sort of.”

Karen gathered up her plate of food and her wine and started for the couch.

“Did... Did you wanna talk about it?” Frank never felt very good with ‘talking’ but he was getting better. Especially when all he _really_ had to do was listen. He could listen to Karen all day.

“I want to eat,” she said, brushing by him.

Frank inhaled steadily, ignoring his twitching trigger finger. When it came to nuances of a relationship, he wasn’t suited for hands-off approaches. Frank was a doer. A fixer. Always had been. If something needed work, he did it. He took initiative. Forward momentum, plan, assess, act.

This unnamed, visceral, lit match and gasoline, ocean and shore line _thing_ he had with Karen was different.

She’d sometimes retreat so far into her own head he’d feel like she’d ghosted to a different continent while he was still staring at her. Karen always sorted things out inside herself first before bringing it out into the world, into their lives. She was a ‘dig the bullets out herself’ kinda gal.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, just to give himself something to hold, Frank joined her on the couch. He tried to seem casual as she flipped through channels, tugging her feet into his lap and leaning back against the cushions.

She ate quietly, focusing too intently on the sitcom he didn’t recognize.

After another thirty minutes, and onto her second helping of wine, Karen broke.

“Can I ask you something?”

Frank glanced over at her, giving a nod.

Setting her glass down, Karen hugged her knees to her chest. “It feels… Wrong to bring this up.”

“What?”

Karen took a deep breath. “Did you ever feel… like your job made you…” She frowned, searching for the words. “Less adequate as a parent?”

Frank went stock still. He was pretty sure he would have expected a grenade to come out of her mouth more than he expected that question.

“I’m sorry,” she said, waving a hand out. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have—”

“Kare…” He shifted to look at her fully.

Her wine flush deepened from embarrassment. “I can’t believe I—Never mind, Frank. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.”

She turned away from him, staring at the television again. He thought about letting it go, letting her retreat again.

Frank cleared his throat. “Sometimes.”

Karen blinked, looking over.

“Yeah… sometimes I did.” His voice was sandpaper, but she asked, and he wanted to answer. “I wasn’t home much, you know? And when I was… My head wasn’t in it a lot. I think what killed me most is that I wasn’t good at faking it.”

Wordlessly, Karen shut the sound off on the TV.

His fingers tapped a rhythm on his knee. “I knew some guys who could fake it. Plaster on the smile, do the song and dance, and their families never knew. But I just… I was never good at that.”

He took a breath, watching her nod. He could do this, he could talk about this.

Plan, assess, act.

Consider, verbalize, engage.

“I don’t think being a Marine made me a less adequate parent,” he said. “I think not knowing how to _stop_ being a Marine did. Not knowing how to compartmentalize.”

Looking up, he saw the fresh shine in her eyes. _Still all heart…_

“Karen, did… Did Ellison say something?”

Plucking at the seam of her yoga pants, she shrugged. “You know the story I’m working on, the… the day care story?”

He grunted an affirmative.

“I said something about how I’d never put my kids somewhere like that, and Ellison he…” She rolled her eyes. “He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I know he didn’t. But it still got to me.”

“What?”

“He said ‘your kids? Really?’” She imitated Ellison, dropping the octave of her voice. “As if the idea was absurd.”

Frank’s thumb dug into the meat of his thigh. He could see it. Maybe a little too well.

Basketball sized belly, bottles turned over in the drying rack, crib in the corner where her bookshelf was now.

Karen shifted on the sofa, bringing him back.

“And when I snapped at him, he made some excuse about how my job might not make me the most fit mother,” she said. “I told him that was bullshit, but… I couldn’t stop thinking about it on the way home and now…” She lifted her wine glass, taking a huge gulp.

Karen never let anyone narrow her options for her. If she was or wasn’t going to do something, it was because she chose not to, not because someone else thought her circumstances would prevent her from it. But she looked up to Ellison, no matter how many times they butted heads. And if he was doubtful of her abilities, Frank understood why that would shake her. Make her second guess herself. Turn her mood sour and brooding.

“I mean, I’m not saying I do want children,” she added, voice echoing into her glass. “I’m not there yet. Not even in the same zip code as considering it. But… I dunno… I’d like to think…”

The nervous leap of his stomach was a new sensation. Frank didn’t get nervous very often.

But this felt important.

_Consider, verbalize…_

“I… I think…” He swallowed roughly. “I mean… If you want my opinion…”

Karen’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “I do.”

_Engage._

“You’d be a great mom.”

The ghost of Lisa’s laughter tripped through is head. Blurred, faded, reformed into a different laugh. A laugh a little more like Karen’s…

“You’re more than capable of caring for a baby,” he said, feeling the need to fill the silence. To drown out the memories still spinning inside him. “But more than that, you’re… Shit, Karen, you’d love that kid with everything you have. That’s just how you are. If… If you chose to be a mom, you’d be the best damn mother in the city. And that kid would be the scariest, toughest, smartest little terror.”

Karen laughed—a sudden burst of bright giggles that made Frank smile.

“You think?” She asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “You’d be running the playground in no time.”

She laughed again and the tension in all her angles ebbed out.

“Well, like I said, I don’t even know yet if…” She shook her head. “But thank you. I… I think I just needed to hear I wouldn’t ruin a kid if I did have one.”

Frank reached for her thin calf, pulling until her legs were draped over his. “No one is ruined for having known you, Karen. Trust me.”

She stared at him for a moment, silent and awed. She didn’t comment though. They simply turned the volume back on the TV and settled in, a little less raw at both their edges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! All comments are adored and appreciated :)


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. I repeat, NSFW (You've been warned)

**165\. “ Do you like it when I touch you like that?” + 188. “ Mine. ”**

*****

It started with a movie. Some homemade lasagna. A glass of cheap wine.

Alright, two glasses of cheap wine.

They’d taken their usual places on Karen’s sofa—Frank at one end, with her feet propped up in his lap as she stretched out. She thought she’d had enough food, but twenty minutes into the documentary they’d picked from her Netflix queue, Karen was feeling the delightful buzzy sensation in her head.

Frank always teased her when she got tipsy. He’d point out her rosy cheeks, her lengthy giggle fits, her not-so-subtle flirting…

She didn’t need to be drunk to flirt with Frank. She was pretty sure she’d find a way to let him know how handsome he was even if she was in a coma. But there was something light and fun about being a little wine drunk in her living room on a Thursday night, copping a few feels and sending signals as clear as a flare gun that she would _not_ say no to anything R rated.

Pulling her right foot gently out of his grasp, she ran her big toe over his thigh, up and down the bulk of muscle hidden beneath his jeans.

The documentary narrator droned on, but Karen wasn’t focused on the television at all. Frank kept his gaze forward, but she knew he was paying attention to her. Knew because his grip tightened on her other ankle just for a second before he forced his fingers to release.

Her foot traveled upwards, to the crease of fabric that telegraphed exactly what she knew he was packing.

Frank’s gaze flicked down, watching her.

 _C’mon…_ she thought, biting her lower lip. She wanted him to prowl closer, spread her legs and settle between them, kissing her senseless against the armrest of the couch.

His mouth twitched into a smirk before he turned back to the television.

_Sonuvabitch._

Karen assessed his profile, realization starting to dawn. She knew _this_ rare side of Frank too.

He loved to work her up, enjoyment coming from seeing her resolve snap, watching her huff and puff and climb on top of him to get what she wanted. The other side though, one she was pretty sure he’d never admit to, was his desire to be desired. To be chased.

He was good—no, perfect—at pursuing. Once he found a target, he didn’t let it out of his sight.

But this Frank, the quiet, withholding Frank, wanted to feel what it was like when those tables were turned.

Karen had experience in that too.

Sitting up, she slid her legs off his lap, tucking them under her as she curled closer into his side. Laying her head on his shoulder, she stayed there for a moment, careful not to rush things. The key was a slow seduction.

Wrapping her arm over his taut stomach, she leaned up, pressing a feather light kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Frank smiled, turning a little but not enough for her to capture his lips. She trailed more kisses over his stubbled neck and jawline.

Pause, kiss, pause, kiss… like stoking a fire.

With gentle kitten scratches, she worked her nails over his abs, occasionally catching the fabric of his shirt as she went lower and lower.

At the exact moment she reached the line of his zipper fly, she latched her teeth around a tendon in his neck, and Frank sucked in a quiet breath. Grinning against him, she scraped her barely-there manicured nails over the denim. She warmed with excitement in riling him up.

Never fully cupping him, as that would be expected, she danced her finger tips up, over, down, across. Keeping him on that edge of anticipation. And just to prove the point, she pushed the hem of his black teeshirt up, palm skipping over hard muscle.

Frank shifted, leaning back further against the cushions.

Those embers Karen was stoking were starting to glow.

Flicking her tongue over his pulse point, she kissed up to the shell of his ear. With nimble fingers, she undid his belt buckle as she took his earlobe between her teeth and bit gently. The rush of air that escaped his chest made her grin against him.

This was going to be fun.

He was impressively hard already—another boost to Karen’s ego as she lowered his zipper and pushed her hand beneath his briefs.

Frank’s head fell back as he grunted softly, and she sighed against his cheek. Butterfly kisses fluttered across his cheek as she nodded, silent and encouraging.

With a little maneuvering, he tugged his jeans down, leaving them at the top of his thighs. She took care of freeing him, wrapping her hand around his shaft and stroking languidly.

Nuzzling against her favorite spot along his jaw—where his day’s worth of stubble scraped her lower lip just right—she swiped her thumb over his weeping tip and hummed in approval.

Frank’s right hand clutched the meat of her thigh, holding on as she jerked him off slowly.

“Mhm…”

Karen smiled. “Like that? You like how I touch you?”

His breath hitched as he nodded.

Something forceful and a little salacious took hold in her chest, causing her blood to pound in her ears and heat to pool in her belly.

Pressing as close as she could to his side, she tilted her head to watch. Other hand raking through his hair, tugging just how she knew he liked, Karen continued to whisper in his ear.

“I love watching you like this,” she murmured. “I mean, look at you… So thick and perfect…”

His neck strained as he fought to swallow down a moan.

“Let me hear you,” she said, grazing her palm over the head of his cock. “C’mon Frank, be good for me.”

His lips parted on a soft gasp as she picked up the pace, squeezing just enough to push him higher. She meant it though, she wanted to hear his moans and curses. Wanted to watch him fall apart.

Kissing his temple, she said, “Been thinking about you all day… Do you know how hard it was to finish a story while thinking about you fucking me at my desk?”

Frank hiccupped around a groan, abs flexing. Dark lashes became crescents beneath his eyes as he leaned back further.

She pressed her lips to his ear. “I was soaked before lunch.”

“Shit, Kare…” He grunted, hips rocking involuntarily, thrusting into her fist.

Karen grinned. “Like that thought, huh? What if I told you I snuck into the single stall at work… Slipped my hand under my skirt, and—”

Her cut her off with a bruising kiss, grabbing the back of her head to pull her closer, tangling in her hair. She paused her attentions along his length only for a moment, but she wouldn’t be swayed. She knew what she wanted.

“C’mon,” Frank urged, trying to haul her over his lap. Karen pushed back, holding steady against his shoulder.

Shaking her head, she smirked. “I told you… Be good, Frank.”

Nostrils flaring, he exhaled and leaned back a fraction. Frustration melted into pliable desire as she continued to stroke him. Pulling off just long enough to spit in her hand, she twisted her wrist as she moved, making him hiss and swear under his breath.

“That’s it,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Christ, I get so turned on watching you.”

His quiet whimper was followed by a questioning glance flashing across his face. Karen kissed his doubt away.

“You want proof?” She asked, gentle teasing lilt in her voice. “Come for me, baby, and I’ll show you.”

He was flushed from the sharp V-cut below his navel all the way to his chest. Struggling to keep his breathing even, his ribs expanded rapidly, pecs rising and falling almost in time with her pumping fist.

Cupping his face with her free hand, she forced him to look at her. “You gonna be good for me, Frank?”

He nodded, eyes darting to watch where her fingers were wrapped around him.

“Tell me,” she whispered, kissing him. She bit his bottom lip, sucking it between her own to drawing out a moan. “Tell me, Frank.”

“Yeah, shit, I’ll…” He grit his teeth against the intense, building pleasure threatening to send him over the edge. “I’ll be good, Kare.”

“So good,” she murmured, centimeters from his mouth. “Are you mine, Frank?”

Nodding, his nose bumped hers. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m yours.”

Fingers tightening on the hair at the back of his head, she asked, “Whose cock is this?”

The guttural, filthy noise that unfurled from the center of his chest made her squeeze her thighs together, ache unbearable.

“Karen…”

“Whose, Frank.”

He gaped, struggling for air, for release, for a fragment of sanity…

“Yours,” he gasped as she ran her thumb under his tip. “Fuck… It’s yours.”

Kissing him with teeth and tongue and fire, she sped up her movements, mumbling encouragements against his swollen lips.

“That’s right, mine,” she whispered, glancing down as she felt him tense. “Come. Come for me, Frank.”

He reached up, cupping the back of her neck to hold her close as his climax hit him like a train. Spilling over her knuckles, down her wrist, and over his stomach, he called her name like she’d ripped it right out of him.

Panting, he closed his eyes, slowly floating down from his high. Karen couldn’t stop smiling. She waited for him to look at her before lifting her fingers to taste what he’d left.

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned, gaze locked on her. “And here I thought we were gonna have a quiet night in.”

She laughed, kissing the top of his cheekbone. “Not a chance in hell.”

Snagging a couple tissues from her side table, Frank quickly cleaned up before yanking his shirt over his head. In an instant, he pulled her legs out from under her, sprawling her back against the cushions.

Her surprised yelp ended in a giggle. “Frank!”

“You said I’d get proof if I was good…” he said, shoving her skirt up around her hips. “Just getting’ what I’m owed.”

She paid him back. With interest.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick day fluff :))

Karen answered the door with a tissue to her nose. “Hey.”

Leaning his shoulder into the frame, Frank looked her over. “Thought you said it was just a sore throat.”

She’d called him, asking if he’d mind picking up a few things for her. Classic ‘trying to keep a cold at bay’ fare—soup, OJ, cough drops.

But from the look of her, she was well passed sore throat/head cold territory.

“I’m fine,” she lied, turning away to go back into the living room, bathrobe trailing behind her.

He smirked, closing the door behind himself. “Sure ya are.”

“Thank you for getting that stuff,” she said, voice nasally. “I appreciate it.”

It was too polite, too distant. She was trying to verbally usher him out.

Frank took his jacket off, tossing it over the back of the nearest barstool. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell.”

“Gee, take me now, sailor.”

“Y’know what I mean,” he said. “You have the flu.”

She scowled at him, sniffing. “It is _not_ the flu.”

Stubborn as always. He had to fight not to chuckle.

“If you say so…”

Karen practically fell back onto the couch, sneezing into the same tissue. “It’s a cold. I’ll be better in a few days.”

She’d be laid up in bed in a few days if she didn’t start a heavy rotation of Nyquil and fluids.

Quietly, Frank set about all the tasks she’d never ask him to do. First he cleaned off her counters, tossing all the take out containers and empty cans of ginger ale. Then he put away the supplies he’d picked up and checked her pantry to see what else she needed. Once he finished wiping down all viable surfaces with Clorox wipes, he pulled out a pot and ladle, and opened up a few cans of soup to heat on the stove.

“Frank, what are you doing?”

“You got any fresh garlic?” He asked, opening another cabinet. “And an onion?”

“Maybe in the—” She was cut off by a window rattling sneeze. “The bowl on the counter?”

Finding what he needed, he retrieved a cutting board and knife and got to work slicing and dicing.

“Frank?”

“Garlic and onion are good for when you’ve got the flu.”

“It’s not—”

“Or a cold. All sorts’a good stuff, anti-inflammatory, antibiotic…”

“You’re cooking?”

He smiled over his shoulder. “Bug’s got your brain fried, huh?”

Karen sniffed, wiped her nose, grumbled under her breath. “No…”

A few minutes later, with the garlic and onion added to the chicken noodle soup, Frank started mixing a batch of Screw Drivers with the bottom shelf vodka he found in her freezer. Nothing like a belly full of warm soup and some booze to knock someone out.

“How long you been sick?” Frank asked, looking over at her from the kitchen.

“Started feeling bad a couple days ago. It was just a nasty sore throat and a head ache. And then around noon today it turned into… this,” she said, gesturing to herself.

Even from a few feet away, he could see the bright pink fever flush on her cheeks and forehead. He was glad he picked up more Tylenol.

“Shoulda called me sooner,” he said, ladling out soup into a bowl.

Karen coughed into her fist. “It’s not a big deal, Frank.”

He frowned as he carried her food over. “Not a big deal?”

Her robe sleeves drooped as she reached for the bowl. “I mean… I didn’t want to… bother you.”

“Bother me,” he echoed, starting to smirk. “Hm.”

When she was settled with her bowl and napkin, he went back for the glass of spiked OJ.

“Not like I got a full schedule or somethin’…”

He could hear Karen slurping from where he stood. He took it as a compliment.

Returning with her drink, he sat next to her on the couch.

“You’re gonna catch—”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Karen faltered, stirring her soup. “I…” She sighed. “I don’t like being sick around people.”

He waited for her to continue.

“For one, it’s not a flattering look,” she said, still working her spoon around the bowl. “And most people get… weird about it.”

“Meaning?”

She sniffed, trying to clear an airway. “They act like they’re doing me a huge favor, risking contamination to bring over take-out and Sudafed. Or they get overly cutesty about it… Like it’s a milestone in the relationship or something.”

He tilted his head to look at her fully. “You keep saying ‘they’…”

“Guys,” she amended. “Boy…friends.”

Frank nearly laughed at the face she made, like she’d just taken a spoonful of grape cough syrup.

Patting her knee gently, he leaned back against the cushions. “It’s alright, Kare. I won’t go mushy on ya.”

She took a couple sips of her soup. “I don’t want you to think… I mean… I know we’re…” She sighed, and her nose squeaked. “I’m too tired for this.”

Frank chuckled. “’S alright. Just eat, and then you’re taking some Tylenol for that fever.”

“I don’t have a—” She was cut off by his hand on her forehead.

“Yeah, you do. 101 if I had to guess.”

Karen groaned. “Great.”

As she finished her soup, he watched, trigger finger rubbing up and down his knuckles.

“Kare,” he said softly. “We, uh… We are though… Right? We’re…”

Bleary eyes blinked up at him. “Yeah. We are.” She smiled, holding her empty bowl in her lap. “After all… I did call _you_.”

Frank smiled.

He spent the rest of the evening keeping tissues at her side, refilling her juice, and letting her pick what serial cop drama to watch. He even managed to get her to take something for her cough before tucking her into bed.

He called that a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading!


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